


Take me home

by SiobhanMcG



Category: Holby City
Genre: A hypothetical in which Bernie flees to Pakistan, And returns to Serena even if it aint the hospital, Elinor still dies, F/F, Freeform, Suicide mentions, drabbles gone wrong, intrusive suicidal thoughts, just some consolation before the apocalypse strikes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 23:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11679228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiobhanMcG/pseuds/SiobhanMcG
Summary: A hypothetical AU in which Bernie goes to Pakistan to assist Elliot Hope in his endeavours and Serena is there to pick Bernie up from the airport. As they wait they consider their past relationship and count the minutes before that find one another again.





	Take me home

   Serena feels something suddenly colliding with her calves as she paces up and down in front of the arrivals gate. When she looks down she sees a toddler with a little trolley adorned with a cartoon character she doesn't recognise. The child looks at her with wide eyes, she shoots him a nervous smile. When she looks up again a woman is apologising to her profoundly in a stutter of broken English; probably the child's mother. Serena looks at her watch again and looks at the screen in front of her, then looks down at her watch again when she realises her brain hadn't processed the time at first try. Approximately three minutes had passed since she last looked. Time seemed to be passing logarithmically slower by the second. Jason had told her she shouldn't have left so early and deep down she knew he had been right, but what if there would have been traffic? And it wasn't as if she would have felt much better waiting those extra 30 minutes at home. 

Her fingers find the pendant on her necklace and she starts fiddling with it. Fingers over the pendant, fingers between the two parts of the pendant, fingers underneath the pendant. Repeat. She looks around the hall again, not really registering anything. A plethora of voices rumbles through the high hall and the voice on the speakers above her echoes against the floor below. The announcement is repeated in another language she faintly recognises, Portuguese? She had heard plenty of it when staying there, in a small cottage with a pool in the south which was a 30-minutes car drive away from the closest supermarket. It had been heaven. A vibration in her pocket brings her back to the grey and noisy hall. It’s Morven, asking if she had arrived already and informing her of Fletch's latest shenanigans. Normally she might have told the younger doctor off for texting on the ward, but not today. She welcomes the distraction and informs her that no, nothing had happened on her end yet. She checks her phone for other messages but nothing new had arrived in the last... 7 minutes. She sends out one or two random messages, one to Ric informing him she had made it to the airport on time, one to Sian not really managing anything of any importance and started typing one to Jason about the lack of traffic. She abandons the endeavour in favour of rolling her shoulders to release some of the tension. Serena looks around again, still not really seeing anything and only vaguely aware of the people moving around her.

The door in front of her opens and she reflexively jerks her head, searching for a certain blonde mop of hair she knew wouldn't be there now or anytime during the coming 50 minutes. If she were honest, she had expected this scenario to take place the other way around. Bernie waiting in the arrival hall and Serena swanning in with her burgundy trolley, a large hat and flowy summer dress. Instead she was stood on the other side of the door, pacing up and down the length of the hallway, waiting for Bernie with her sports bag and unflattering jersey.

  
   When Bernie wakes up she isn't quite sure how long she has slept, or how long she will be on the plane still. Next to her Elliot Hope is still fast asleep with his glasses gone askew and mouth catching flies. She decides to look outside, desperately trying to squint past Elliot– who had, of course, claimed the window seat and no amount of bickering had changed his mind. Although now it had at least been possible to spread her legs into the aisle during their 14-hour flight from Pakistan to London. To her great joy the ground underneath was familiar, they had just crossed the Channel and she thought she could see the white cliffs of Dover. Soon she would be on trusted British territory. The realisation hit her that this was the first time she was looking forward to landing this much, knowing there would be a pair of warm, welcoming arms waiting for her there. During her time of service Cameron and Charlotte had always been there and she had loved feeling them in her arms again, but this was different. Rather than her holding her children, she looked forward to Serena holding her. As much as she had revelled in Marcus' trusted scent and the feeling of his arms around her which marked her homecoming, it had never excited her. A twinge of guilt churned in her stomach, but she dismissed it. She hadn't known any better and right up until Alex she had never not been happy to see Marcus and her children again. She had loved him, albeit in her own unique way; as a friend, as a life-partner and as her confidant. He hadn't been completely wrong when he had said he had known her every thought during their 25 years of marriage; it was just this one thing she had always kept hidden away. But how could she blame Marcus for not knowing, if she hadn't acknowledged this particular desire for most of her adult life?   
Missing Serena, Bernie takes out her watch and checks the time. It will be at least another 43 minutes before she'll be able to bury herself in Serena's warm touch. 

  
   Serena wonders if Bernie would have changed her looks over the past months. Would her hair be longer? Blonder? Would it be the messy bob she sported when Serena left? Or had she abandoned her hair mousse altogether now that she had been back in the heat and sand? The last months the connection hadn't been stable enough to video call, so they had resorted to e-mailing, with the occasional chat. During the first few weeks of Serena's sabbatical they had tried to call daily, but it had slowly worn off as Serena travelled to places with limited internet access. It had done her well– it had done them both well. Sending weekly, or sometimes monthly if Bernie was busy or Serena was holed up in a corner away from the digital world, e-mails had been more comfortable. It gave them distance, for Serena to reflect and for Bernie to work. It had also granted them the element of anticipation and wonder.    
Serena touched her hair self-consciously. Bernie had seen the new colour, but never in person and had never touched. It had also grown since she last saw her. The last call she'd had with Bernie had been too blurry for Serena to make out the nuances of the ever-familiar blonde mop. Bernie had told her she had tanned in Pakistan; even burned the first week after Serena left as she had underestimated the sun since her skin was no longer used to the harsh light after her prolonged stay in England.

She once more turns towards the arrivals depicted on the large screen, several more flights before Bernie would come swaggering through these doors. The rattling wheels of trolleys and screams of children frustrate her as she repeatedly clenches and unclenches her fists.  _ Bernie. Berenice. Bern. Griselda. Darling.  _ She thinks of all the things she likes to call her;  _ Her friend. Best friend. Lover. Girlfriend. Partner.  _ She licks her lips, eyes focussing again on the automatic doors on the other side of the hallway. A young man is filtering through, his eyes searching the crowd waiting in front of him. Serena can pinpoint the moment he finds what he so desperately needs. His eyes widen and he darts forwards, so effortlessly pulling the heavy case that it might as well not have been there. Within seconds he is wrapped up in the embrace of a young girl. They are touching head to toe as he buries himself in her hair, kissing her crown. Would this be her and Bernie when she walked through those doors? Probably. Serena chewed her bottom lip, they hadn't seen each other properly in months, hadn't touched each other for even longer. Even before Serena left things hadn't been optimal and Serena knew that Bernie had understood and respected that, but she couldn't help but worry a little now that they would meet again; start over. 36 more minutes.

   Bernie decides to take out her phone, aimlessly scrolling through the photos and random images saved on it. She keeps her favourites in a separate folder marked 'Settings'. Bernie felt a bit embarrassed at the sentimentality of it. In it were all manner of things. Photos of Cam and Charlotte growing up; Charlotte in bright red Wellies and yellow raincoat splashing around some puddles, Cam feeding a goat in the petting zoo they would visit with the four of them during their Sunday afternoon walks, Charlotte and Cameron sitting on Marcus' back as he crawled around their living room. Bernie couldn't honestly say her marriage had been a bad one until her own infidelity, especially the early years with Charlotte and then Cameron had been filled with bliss. Then came moments she missed: Charlotte's high-school graduation, Cameron's 17th birthday which they had celebrated by going sailing for the week-end, Christmas during Cameron's first year or university. Bernie had missed them dearly, even if they had always sent her photos, letters and care packages. One of their letters was still tucked away in the small compartment of her backpack. She always carried it with her when she went away, even if nowadays there was little doubt about her return.    
  
There were also photos of her time in the army; the Afghan desert, her unit together and smiling, the family whose youngest son they had managed to save, her and Alex making hummus, all of the sliding down sand dunes. Bernie had enjoyed her time in the army, she flourished there. The command structure had suited her and the urgency of the work had shaped her into the surgeon she was nowadays. Not that she hadn't been on top of her game before joining; she had always had a good reputation–but it was on roadsides and in sandy field hospitals in Iraq and Afghanistan that she reached her full potential. Her father, a general himself, had always told her the life would suit her. Obviously, her teenage self had refused and tried proving him wrong, but he had always known his daughter well. Bernie had loved the army with all the passion she could muster.

Then followed more recent memories. The AAU-family in Albie's, Fletch's birthday bash, dinner with Morven, Serena, Raf, Fletch and the Fletchlings, the exhibition on medical military history she had visited with Jason, a night out with Dom and a photo of them the next morning as the lay in her queen-sized bed. It had been one hell of a night. Dom had tried playing wingman for her setting her up with girls who were undoubtedly pretty, but some of which might have been young enough to be her own daughters;  _ awkward _ .  
  


* * *

  
In the end, Bernie managed to chat up a young man whom she had instantly picked out as a fellow soldier (Tom) for Dom, and they had spent most of their night dancing with the three of them (although some moments Bernie decided to strategically slip away). They hadn't gone home together, as Zosia had instated a 'no hook-ups for the month'-rule after a particularly noisy guest of Dom's, and Tom still living in dorms.  _ Not exactly ideal _ , thought Bernie, remembering her own time in military dorms. 

When the sunlight was slowly filtering through the darkness they had ended up in her small bachelorette pad; Dom not being in a state to make his way back to his own home and Bernie being too worn out to bring him. She had simply thrown some of her old and worn sports clothes in his general direction and offered him the left side of her bed. Dom had wrinkled his nose as Bernie handed him an old shirt to change into. 

"Awfully domestic," he said after he put is on, vaguely gesturing at the grey RAMC shirt he was wearing now. 

Bernie honked and replied, "Just imagine what could have been if you had considered turning" before crawling into the right side of the bed.

Dom snorted and curiously picked up the reading glasses from the chair that doubled as a makeshift bedside table on his side of the bed, and shot Bernie a questioning glance. 

"They're Serena's, but don't tell her I said that. She'll kill me if you as much as mention it." Bernie shifted to get comfortable and saw Dom grinning on the other side of the bed, having put down the glasses.  "It took two months before she even showed them to me–or rather until I walked in on her wearing them." She clearly remembered the blush and uncharacteristic rambling as Serena had tried to explain the presence of the black spectacles perched on her nose. 

"She doesn't wear them at work then?" Dom asked, eyebrow raised curiously.

"No–or well, only when no one can see her. She makes me close the blinds when she wears them. God knows what the ward thinks now." Bernie said, barely suppressing a yawn.

"So, she'd rather have them think the two of you are getting sweaty on her desk in the middle of a shift than have them find out she wears reading glasses?" Dom asked with his characteristically raised eyebrow.

"Yep," Bernie said, starting to doze off.

Dom snorted loudly. "Mad, completely mad." And Bernie mumbled a laugh in response before slipping away.

As expected Dom had a massive headache the next morning cringed as Bernie had suggestively asked if he enjoyed their night together.

"Just wait until I tell Serena about this," he tutted. 

At that they had both burst out laughing and ended up sending a selfie to Serena, who had warned Dom to keep his hands of Bernie or he might come to lose them. The next time they had gone out with the three of them, but this time sticking to a bar until one, rather than continuing their tour de force into nightclubs in the early hours. Not that Bernie minded much, her back was much happier this way– but that was something she'd never admit to Dom. Serena giggled at that particular comment as they lay together afterwards.  
  


* * *

  
Then came photos of Serena; sometimes the two of them, sometimes her alone. There are photos of their first day out together, their outings with Jason and a few sneaky shots by their AAU-family of stolen moments on the ward. Her favourite was one where she was about to leave their office, already moving towards the door, but with her hand on Serena's side and pressing a quick kiss to her lips. Bernie felt her heart swell in her chest at the sweetness of the memory. It was a little moment of Serenity on an otherwise hectic ward and those seconds had sustained Bernie throughout a particularly gruelling surgery that had extended well beyond the end of her shift. There was also a photo of Serena cooking with her polka dotted apron and another one of Serena gardening in one Bernie's old RAMC shirts. Her favourite was much more private, Serena was sleeping in this particular photo. 

Bernie had taken it one morning when she had woken up early with Serena's warm body bundled up in her arms with her back turned towards Bernie. The duvet had slid down to her waist, allowing Bernie to gaze and connect the freckles and birthmarks on her back. Her eyes had fixated on on a particular array of freckles, birthmarks and scars that had reminded her of the Lupus constellation, or Wolfe constellation as she liked to call it. It wasn't visible from their home in England, but she had been able to see it from the Afghan and Iraqi desert when she missed her children. Spotting it on Serena's back that morning had filled her with boundless delight; it was as if faith had destined Serena to be loved by one Berenice Wolfe. She had also seen the remnants of small scars littered across her shoulders and the small mark left on her shoulder blades earlier that week–Bernie grinned smugly at that particular memory. 

Nevertheless, the photo wasn’t meant to be erotic or anything the like. For Bernie it holds an air of comfort and stability. It is a reminder that she is allowed to wake up like this, next to Serena, allowed to smooth down the cow lick at the back of her head visible in the photo, and allowed to kiss and touch each and every freckle, birthmark and scar good morning. A reminder that she is allowed to love Serena wholly and unreservedly. At that thought her fingertips stroke the cold screen of her phone, longing to remember the sensation of Serena's skin under her fingers. She sighs and closes her eyes, groaning longingly as she wills herself to recall as much of Serena's scent, touch, taste and sound as she could gather from the corners of her memory. Her musings are interrupted by a soft chuckle next to her from Elliot who had apparently woken up. When she opens her eyes and sees him smiling at the photo on her screen, she blushes and hastily puts the phone away.

"The Lupus constellation hm?" Bernie resists rolling her eyes. Trust Elliot Hope to be able to recognise obscure constellations not even visible from British soil. "One would almost think Dr Campbell was destined to meet you, Berenice." 

Elliot smiles softly and Bernie can’t help but feel some fondness for the man. She checks her watch again. 23 more minutes. Almost there.

  
   A cold breeze from the entrance shakes Serena from her musing–her mind keeps wandering off. She marches off with no particular destination in mind, but at least it gives her legs something to do. It’s her fifth round of the arrival hall of the airport and no new shops have miraculously appeared since her last round twelve minutes ago. There are the usual clothing, bags and souvenir stores, an even more overpriced Mark and Spencer, a store with duty-free perfumes and chocolates, and a newsagent. She isn't in the mood for perfumes and chocolates, longing for Bernie's smell and taste more than anything. Serena strides into the newsagent, browsing the magazines on the shelves. None of the titles or images really reach her consciousness, nevertheless she haphazardly picks one up. Halfway through the magazine she checks her watch again. At least another 14 minutes before Bernie's plane is scheduled to touch down and then she’d still have to go through customs and pick up her luggage… So realistically 30 more minutes? Her mouth suddenly feels dry as she isn’t sure if she can take any delays at this point, which is completely ridiculous. They have been apart for 8 months, 2 weeks and 4 days at this point–it’s also completely ridiculous that she knows this; only the hours have escaped her as a consequence of all the different timezones she had travelled through. She puts the magazine back in place and briskly walks out, back into the bustling hall. She stalks towards the end of the arrivals hall until she can smell the sickening scent of mediocre airport meals. Her stomach makes a nauseous flip and Serena can feel her muscles contract with disgust. She is too tense to do think about food right now. Consequently, she turns on her heels and paces back to the front of the hall. Once there she leans heavily against the metal railings and attempts to calm herself down. Serena draws on her last memories of Bernie where they parted ways in Iran, before she left for Pakistan and Elliot Hope.    
  


* * *

  
They had visited the city Shiraz, the city after which her favourite beverage was named and even if there was no more wine to be found, it had been a fascinating adventure. Wandering through small sandy roads and villages, she had gathered glimpses of another side of Bernie, one that faded into the brown sand and golden sun. When they had first visited the desert Bernie seemed to fade into the landscape; her tanned skin, dark eyes and golden hair seemingly destined for no place but here. Bernie had told her about the Afghan desert as they sat together in their jeep, Bernie confidently resting her hand on the wheel and her hair fluttering around her face. Serena found herself falling in love again with the woman sitting beside her, but calmly this time as she knew Bernie would be waiting for her on the other side. It wasn't as if she had ever truly fallen out of love with her, but her feelings for Bernie had drowned in her grief. Now she was rediscovering her, catching glimpses of Bernie's past, present and future as the desert sun touched their skins. Serena had been enchanted by the freedom the blonde exuded here, swaggering through crowded markets with Serena's hand tucked away in the crook of her elbow. Bernie carried herself with a seemingly masculine confidence, made attractive by feminine elegance. She had also looked surprisingly good with a beige shawl wrapped loosely around her head, her fringe sticking out and lose twists of hair framing her face. Serena had wanted to opt for a dark red fabric, but Bernie had stopped her and selected a light pink as she explained how lighter colours absorbed less of the heat, a principle Serena knew but never consciously applied.    
Bernie had taken them to an ancient ruin which had once been a place of worship and shown her the faded drawings on the walls, explained what she knew of them and the stories they told. Serena had been entranced, never having quite realised the country's deep and rich history. It seemed only right that it was here where her favourite wine found its origin.   
There was a serene beauty to the ruin, with its worn stones and fallen pillars covered by layers of soft sand, ready to be loved anew after aeons of loneliness. Serena supposed that this was what she currently looked like, a ruin covered in soft sand, void of its usual people–barring a lone army medic, barely visible in beige cotton and golden hair, looking as if she had always belonged here. A mirage in her desert. When night came they sat in the back of the jeep, covered in a thick blanket. 

   Bernie looked up at the stars, spotting the constellation connecting all the things that are dear to her. With a deliberate yet unconscious movement she started rubbing Serena’s back where she knew the spots connected and Serena leaned into her touch. It was the most physical they had been since that momentous night on the roof. Her eyes watered involuntarily at the memory. Whenever she thought back she can feel her heart clench again, blood pumping through her veins as it feels like no limb in her body can carry her up to the roof fast enough. The mere idea of losing Serena completely, of their last moment being that damned operation, of their story ending in the very same operating theatre where it began, the notion of Serena’s dea– Before Bernie realised it a tear was rolling down her cheek. Serena tilted her head in silent question and Bernie quickly made to wipe away the tears with the back of her hand, but Serena grasped her hand and laced their fingers together before she got the chance. For a long moment they simply sat there, mirroring their night on the roof. Both of them were expecting Bernie to break the silence, but it was Serena who spoke first. 

As if reading Bernie’s mind she said, “I did think about it, when up on the roof.” Her voice was small now. “What it would be like to end it, all of it.” 

Bernie failed to suppress a strangled sob, but Serena continued. “At first it was the pain and the the longing, I thought that was the worst.” Bernie felt herself breaking as she looked at Serena’s profile, unable to see the expression on her face, but she could hear it in her voice. She remembered the first weeks when Serena had looked as if she might bleed to death from the pain swirling within her. Nothing got through to Serena in those weeks and more often than not Bernie would have come home to find Serena completely wrapped up in her own world. Every night Bernie would clear away all the photos, books, old clothes and whatever else had belonged to Elinor that was now covering every surface of their living room. Every day Serena would take them out again, relishing the little pieces of Elinor that were yet to fade. Until one day Serena had snapped.

Serena was staring up into the dark. “It wasn’t– it wasn’t the worst.” Bernie held her breath as she saw Serena swallow. “I felt  _ so, so _ empty. ” Her voice cracked a little. “I thought that if only I could fill it with something–  _ anything. _ ” She didn’t speak the words, but Bernie knew what she meant: Jasmine, the drinking, the lashing out, the barbs aimed at Bernie, the cruelty at nurses. Bernie had also known nothing could have filled the space left behind. 

“Sometimes the thought just crossed my mind, when I was standing on the roof or holding a scalpel or giving a patient pain relief…” Serena paused.  _ What if I could relieve my own pain?  _ followed, unspoken. Bernie could no longer suppress the feeling that had ensnared her heart and was cutting into it with metal wires. She grasped Serena with desperate hands, clawed at her clothes and sobbed, wrapping herself around Serena unable to let go. Serena was still looking up at the sky.

“It was never an active thought.” Her voice had dropped low and soft. “It was like a spectre– haunting and looming, it just crept into my head. I thought I could indulge myself, even if it was only for a moment.” Bernie was shaking uncontrollably, her wrangled sobs were a stark contrast to Serena’s soft voice. Her hands were buried deeply in the fabric of Serena’s clothes as she was curled around the soft curves of her body, her legs intertwined between Serena’s. She was shaking almost hysterically, her muscles spasmed as she was desperate to hold on to the woman next to her, but Serena wasn’t going anywhere. Not that time. She was calm and only moved to cover Bernie’s arm with one of her own and to start stroking Bernie’s hair with the other.

Once she was no longer gasping for air Bernie managed to mutter a reply “I– I was  _ so  _ afraid Serena. Afraid I had lost you, that you were–” She whimpered, unable to complete her sentence, the nauseating constriction in her throat back once again. 

“I know,” Serena murmured. “I know.” Bernie had buried her head in the crook of Serena’s neck, taking in the familiar scent with a shuddering breath. “But I wouldn’t, not then and not ever. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Her breath had gradually slowed down and she felt exhausted. Bernie could feel her fingers burn from grabbing Serena so tightly when the strength had flown out of them. Her body then lay limp with exhaustion, her eyes had fluttered shut when Serena hummed softly, vibrations travelling through their connected chests. 

When most of her cathartic weariness had passed Bernie lifted her head, nudged Serena’s nose with her own as she wished to kiss her. They hadn’t kissed since Bernie had seen Serena off at the airport before she had begun her sabbatical. It hadn’t felt right before, not with that unspoken fear between them. Serena cuddled closer, pressing their foreheads together and Bernie had felt their breaths mingle on her lips, willing Serena to close the gap between them; it needed had to be on her terms. And she did. It started as a subtle pressing of lips, tender and soft. Bernie’s heart had skipped a beat, but she felt calm. She had been too tired to have felt nervous or excited, instead she felt calm, at home, and simply presses back. Then Serena captured Bernie’s bottom lip between her own and tugged slightly. She could now feel a slight dampness on her lips and couldn’t help sliding her arm around Serena’s waist to pull her closer still. Serena had leaned back almost imperceptibly only to slide their lips over each other again; not exploring or tasting, only feeling. This time Bernie captured Serena’s lips, slid her other hand to cup the other woman’s cheek. She had felt Serena lean into her touch which had prompted her to open her mouth slightly, as she wanted to taste more of her, rediscovering the taste that was so uniquely Serena. They continued kissing, lips opened slightly from longing to taste the other, but not ready to raise the stakes quite yet. They simply smiled as they broke apart, gazing at the beautiful lines in the other’s face. 

Bernie told Serena about her constellation in the sky, now  _ their  _ constellation when Bernie had found it on Serena’s shoulder and stroked it through the fabric. Serena smiled, amazed, and touched her own shoulder. She asked Bernie to show her and Bernie obliged, sliding the soft cotton blouse from Serena’s shoulder. She traced the constellation on Serena’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to each as she pointed out the corresponding star above. Serena’s eyes were glittering when she was finished, filled with more emotions than Bernie could describe. Then Serena kissed her again and no words are needed between them this time.  __ Yes, there is place for you in my future.  
  


* * *

  
   Bernie is shaken from the memory when the plane starts to descend. No matter how often she does this, the pressure in her ears and lightheadedness never fails to produce a nasty bout of nausea. Instead, she closes her eyes and focusses on her breathing. In and out, in and out. The bile is rising in her throat, _ yuck. _ Next to her Elliot is sitting calmly, completely unaffected by the sudden shift in pressure. She is never as happy to be shaken violently as when a plane lands; it signals being back on solid ground again which never fails to excite her–even after a 14-hour flight. She grabs her bag and pulls on her NHS hoodie, nervously toying with the strings and eventually ties them up in her trademark bow. She wants to stand up immediately and leave but instead waits for the horde to have left and only then do they get up. Her legs feel weak as she steps out of the plane, the air outside both chilling and refreshing as it blows new life into her. She can only think of one thing:  _ Serena. _ Exhaustion and hunger will have to wait until she can hold Serena again. How long would it be now? 10 minutes if customs and luggage collection were fast? 20 if they were slow? She chants Serena’s name over and over as she walks through the carpeted hallway of the airport, relishing to taste the sound on her lips again.   
  


_    Bernie has landed. _ The screen announces the arrival of her flight in pixelated yellow letters on a green rectangle. She must be retrieving her luggage now. Serena is hugging herself tightly, one hand wrapped around her abdomen and the other toying with her necklace.  _ Bernie. Bernie. Berenice. Bernie. Bern. Bernie.  _ She can’t help but repeat her name over and over in her head until it is like a thunder in her mind. Every muscle in her body feels tense, pulling her beyond the white glass doors towards the woman she loves with every fibre in her body.

   Bernie's eyes immediately start darting around once she finally passes the white doors, clenching her bag tighter. Once she sees Serena she doesn't see anything but her. Notices her new hair, how it is messier and longer than usual, the little crows feet, new wrinkles, a darker skin, everything at once. Serena finds Bernie at almost the same moment. Serena's heart skips a beat and every nerve ending seems to be on fire. She can't move at first, then tries walking, straining not to run. The last few steps are a clumsy stumble before she grasps Bernie, falling into her, pressing her entire body against her, trying to maximise contact. Clawing at the fabric at her back, pressing their foreheads together, noses touching and breath intermingling. Bernie is the first to cry, her heart constricted and swelling, beating out of her chest. She doesn't want to let Serena go, desperate to maintain contact; willing them to fuse together. To have every single inch of skin touch, cells moulding together. The strings of their hearts tightly knitted together. In that moment they feel quantum interlaced, so closely connected yet forever too far apart. Their breaths hitch as they look at one another, so many emotions swimming in their eyes it's futile to name them. Serena smiles, hair sticking out in all directions now and eyes shimmering with tears unshed. Serena melts into her, closes her eyes and sighs– loosens her grip on Bernie. Bernie strokes Serena's hair. The grey seems to be a bit longer now than when she last saw her; Serena has let it grow again. The smile on Serena's face reminds Bernie of the photos she had seen of Serena before her mother died and before Eleanor died. She's bright and vibrant, so much it radiates off her in waves, curing Bernie of some of her post-flight exhaustion. They simultaneously reach for each other and lace their hands together.   
  
Bernie slides her other hand down to Serena's neck and her eyes dart to Serena's lips, soft and pink. She looks up again and kisses her. It's both soft and filled with months of unanswered longing.    
  


When they finally break apart Serena softly mutters “Welcome home, soldier” against her lips as their foreheads are resting together. Bernie answers with a soft peck and tugs on her hand.    
  
“Take me home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the most amazing Sentenciousandbellicose or Regency for proofreading, spellchecking, beta-ing and helping in wrestling this into a readable shape, without whose invaluable help this would have been binned probably.


End file.
